This morning, I woke up with my head at the foot of the bed. I was quite confused by this turn of events -- I felt reasonably certain that I was facing the right way when I fell asleep. But there was a pillow under my head, so who knows, maybe I migrated down there in the ten seconds between "tired" and "asleep". You know, if my spot was hot or maybe if I was after a cat to squeeze.
I confirmed with the boyfriend that my feet were at the foot of the bed at bedtime. Since it takes me approximately thirty seconds to be completely unconscious, and I am told it takes him until Christmas every single night, he would know where I was when sleep happened. And I was facing the right way.
Apparently, he woke up in the middle of the night (who does that? Not me.) and was quite confused by my feet. He reports shaking my leg, and trying to ask me what I was doing and suggesting that I might want to right myself. Obviously, I was asleep so I didn't react. He gave up quickly and went back to sleep.
Now, I know I talk in my sleep. I think I've told this story here before, but I happen to think it's hilarious... When I worked at summer camp, there was one particular night when the other counselor came into the cabin at curfew and heard me muttering in my bed. She asked me to repeat myself and I kept mumbling, so she came closer to my bed and said she couldn't hear me.
You should know that I woke up my campers every morning by loudly announcing the time and whether I heard enough noise to make me think they were really getting ready. I did this in bed, facing the wall, and trying to sleep. (We were frequently very late for breakfast in Cabin Six.)
So, that particular night at midnight, I sat straight up in the bed and, I was later told by twelve ten year-old girls, yelled at the top of my lungs "Girls! I mean it! It is eight twenty-five and they are raising the flag right now! Just put your shoes on! You have to wear your pajamas to breakfast! Someone run up the hill and set the table right now! Let's go! I don't hear you getting up! I mean it!"
Naturally, the children sprang from the beds and started putting their shoes on. And then poor LB had to shut me up and put twelve children back to bed at midnight. They were all super cranky the next day -- I guess for some reason I was the only one who got enough sleep.
That's a particularly bad instance of me misbehaving in my sleep. Typically I just mutter nonsense or thrash around a lot.
I haven't ended up at the wrong end of the bed in years. It happens when I have a dream involving a walking journey. And I guess I had one last night. Let's just hope it's not recurring for the sake of the two cats and one boy who share the bed with me and are prone to waking up in the middle of the night. Weirdos.
